I don’t own any of the characters or places in this story. They belong to the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema and Peter Jackson. I have just been fascinated by them for the last 28 years. Please don’t sue me. A turnip is worth more than I am.

A/N: I think I played a little fast and loose with one of the elements Marigold assigned me, but I’ll let you, the readers, be the judge of that.

This story was written for Marigold’s Challenge 18.

All in a Day

by Garnet Took

The four hobbits sat enjoying a sumptuous breakfast. They had finally reached that point where the serious work of eating was over and they were merely nibbling. Pippin reached for something in the large basket of fruit in the middle of the table.

“What do you suppose this is?” asked the youngest hobbit, holding up a long, curving, yellow object.

“Well, seeing as it came from a fruit basket,” said Sam in his common-sense way, “I’d say it’s some sort of fruit. Something that only grows in these parts.”

Merry took the thing from Pippin’s hand. “It has brown spots on it,” he observed. “I wonder what that means. Are the brown spots a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I wonder how you eat it,” said Frodo. “Do you eat it with the peel on like an apple, or do you have to take the peel off like you do with one of those oranges that Aragorn introduced us to a few weeks ago?”

“I don’t know,” said Pippin. “But, if it tastes as good as those oranges did, I can’t wait to try it.” Without another word, he took the fruit from Merry and bit into it.

Without a word, Pippin jumped up from the table and ran from the room. “Well, that answers the question of whether or not to eat the peel,” said Merry.

Now that they knew to remove the thick skin, the other three hobbits eagerly sampled this strange, new food. Merry found the taste appealing, but the texture was not to his liking. Frodo liked it, but decided that it was something he wouldn’t want every day. Sam loved it. “I wonder if there’s some way to grow these back home, “ he speculated.

A few minutes later Pippin returned looking both sheepish and a little ill. “Those things are absolutely vile,” he stated.

“Yes, I imagine they are if you eat that thick skin,” said Merry rather unsympathetically. “Maybe you should try it again, the right way.”

“No thanks,” answered Pippin, waving his hand emphatically. “Even if that skin hadn’t been as bitter as an orc draught, the way that stuff felt in my mouth was just wrong. I don’t know what it was, but I never want to taste one of those things again.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have duty this morning and I don’t want to be late.”

“I really need to be leaving, too,” said Merry. “Eomer is having archery training this morning and he said he wants to see if I’m as good with a bow as I am with a thrown rock.”

“I think I’ll be off to the library,” said Frodo. “What about you, Sam?”

“Well, Sir,” said the gardener, “I think I’ll try to find out more about these new fruits and vegetables that we’ve been introduced to. I want to know which ones can be grown back home.”

“Enjoy yourself,” called Frodo, following his cousins out the door.

________________________________________________________

Merry stood next to Eomer watching the riders of Rohan go through their paces. First the riders had practiced riding in various formations and patterns. Then each rider had taken turns shooting arrows at a fixed target as they either trotted, cantered or galloped past it at different distances.

Eomer looked over at his small esquire. “What do you think?” he asked. “Do you think you can hit the target?”

Merry looked carefully at the target, measuring the distance with careful consideration. “If I am allowed to stand on my own two feet, and not ride; and if I am given a few practice shots to accustom myself to the size, shape and pull of a Rohirrim bow, I should be able to. I must confess, however, that while hobbits are natural archers, I have not been as well trained in the skill as some. Pippin would probably be much better at this than I. My family has always preferred to farm and fish for our survival, but his has always had a more adventurous mindset and have enjoyed hunting as well as farming for their supper.”

Eomer chuckled. He could easily envision the young Took sneaking through the woods, bow in hand, on the track of small game. “Well,” he said, coming back to the present, “since you are the one sworn to my service, my concern is only with your abilities and not those of your cousin or any other holbytla.”

At a sign from the king, a soldier stepped forward and handed his bow to Merry. The hobbit accepted it, testing its weight and pull. “I am fortunate,” he finally said, “that I swore myself to a country that fights primarily from horseback. Otherwise, I would not even be able to pick up one of your bows, let alone try to use it.”

Eomer smiled down at his smallest knight. “Glad we could accommodate.”

With determination and deep concentration, Merry fitted an arrow to the string and took aim.

The first shot was way wide of the mark. The second was closer. And the third, almost true. Merry was biting his lip in frustration and intense concentration as he prepared for his fourth attempt.

The released string twanged, and the shaft was away. Suddenly, there was a thunk as it struck the target squarely in the center. Beside him, Eomer heard the loud exhalation as Merry let out the breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.

Eomer clapped the hobbit on the shoulder. “That was amazing!” exclaimed the king.

“Huh?” said Merry, forgetting to whom he was speaking in his own shock at the king’s words. “What do you mean?” he finally added. “It took me four tries to hit it. You must mean that it was amazingly bad.”

“Not at all,” reassured the king. “You made that shot in only four attempts with a bow you had never even handled until a few minutes ago. Never have I seen someone accomplish a feat such as that with so little practice. It makes me almost wish for a whole company of hobbit archers to add to my army.”

Merry was blushing furiously. “Thank you, My Lord,” he said. “I’m afraid, though, that you will have to make do with just me. I seriously doubt that any amount of persuasion would coax any of my countrymen to join an army, but thank you for the compliment.”

“You are most welcome,” answered the king. “Now, shall we continue the practice?”

_________________________________________________________

Pippin began his duty just before Aragorn began hearing petitions and embassies for the morning. For the hobbit, this was the worst part of serving as a guard of the citadel. He constantly had to fight boredom. He knew that anything could happen, and that every person who entered the court was a potential threat; but standing still and listening to discussions he knew little of, and could not participate in, was tedious.

By the time that the noon break arrived Pippin’s thoughts were beginning to drift into daydreams. He came suddenly back to himself when a page and one of the kitchen staff brought the king’s luncheon. Pippin rushed to help them prepare the table for Aragorn. Unlike in the days of Denethor, the noon meal in Aragorn’s court was an enjoyable time for Gondor’s smallest knight. Pippin was not forced to endure while others ate. The king always saw to it that the hobbit got at least a little something to sustain him through the remainder of his duty shift.

On this particular day, Pippin noticed several of the long, yellow, curved fruits he had tried at breakfast in the fruit bowl on the king’s table. He found himself looking at them with disgust.

“What are those things?” asked Pippin when he saw Aragorn reach for one of the strange fruits.

“These?” said the king. “These are called bananas. They grow on very tall plants far in the South. They are still somewhat rare in this part of the world since trade with Harad and other countries in that region is only now just resuming. Would you like to try one?”

“No, thank you,” answered the hobbit. “I tasted one earlier and did not find it to my liking. I was just curious about what they were called.”

Pippin watched closely as Aragorn snapped the stem at the end of the fruit and began peeling it from that end. Once he had it peeled half-way down, the king took a satisfied bite. Pippin couldn’t help but make a face, remembering his experience of that morning.

Aragorn began to laugh at the strange look on his knight’s face. Suddenly he stopped and put both hands to his throat.

Pippin just looked at Aragorn for several seconds, then he realized that something was seriously wrong. “What’s the matter?” he asked. When Aragorn didn’t answer, Pippin understood. He knew he had to do something, and quickly, or the king would choke to death--on his watch.

Thinking quicker than he believed he could, Pippin grabbed Aragorn’s hand and dragged him over to the steward’s chair, at the foot of the steps leading to the throne. Once there, the hobbit climbed on the chair and wrapped his arms around the kings waist from behind. With his left hand over his right fist, Pippin pushed in and up just under the king’s ribcage just as hard as he could. Nothing happened. Franticly he repeated the process two more times. On the last attempt, he was rewarded with a “whooosh” of escaping air and the sight of a large piece of banana landing on the floor at the foot of the throne. Relieved and winded, Pippin slumped down in the steward’s seat.

“Thank you” rasped Aragorn, once he’d got his breath back. That was quick thinking.”

“You’re welcome,” panted Pippin. “I’m not quite sure where the idea to do that came from. I’m just glad it worked.”

After things had calmed down, Aragorn dismissed Pippin for the rest of the day. “You’ve had enough excitement for the day,” the king told him. “You should go back to the guest house and rest.”

Thank you, My Lord,” answered Pippin.

“And I promise that I’ll not have any more bananas sent in any more of the fruit baskets for you and the others.”

“I appreciate that, even if Sam won’t. I knew those things weren’t to be trusted the minute I bit into one.”

Aragorn just chuckled and shook his head as he watched the young hobbit leave.

________________________________________________________

In the late evening, the four hobbits sat on the veranda of the house they shared with the rest of the Fellowship. They were smoking their pipes and talking over the events of the day.

“So,” said Frodo, looking over at Sam, “did you find out anything about the fruits and vegetables that you wanted to?”

“Yes,” answered the gardener. “Almost none of them will grow back home. They all need the warmer weather that is only found here and farther south.” He seemed truly disappointed.

“Did you find out what the strange, yellow fruit from this morning was?”

At this question, Pippin visibly winced. “They’re called bananas,” he snapped, “and one of them tried to kill Strider.”

“What?” asked Merry and Frodo together.

“You heard me,” Pippin shot back. “They’re called bananas and they’re grown in Harad and places farther south. At luncheon today Aragorn was eating one when he choked. For a minute, I thought he was going to die before I could do anything. Finally I thought of what to do and got the stupid thing out. I’m sure this has to be some sort of plot by the old followers of Sauron to overthrow Aragorn.”

The other three hobbits just shook their heads.

“Well think what you like,” said Pippin, “but I never want to see another banana as long as I live.”

The End

_______________________________________________________

The Three elements I had to incorporate were:

1. The hobbits see and eat bananas for the first time.

2. There is a attempt on the king’s life.

3. Merry uses a bow and arrow.